Blood of the Rose (24 page)

“Who are you?”

“Don’t you know?” Her blue eyes widened.

“I know very little about Vampires.”

She pouted. “But you should know me!”

“Why?”

She sighed and looked reproachful. “Didn’t Rhys tell you?”

Christopher tried to concentrate his thoughts. The fact that Rhys had continued to chat with one of his enemies was a conversation for another, less dangerous time.

“What do you want from me?” Christopher demanded.

She raised her chin at him in a manner strangely reminiscent of Rosalind. “To tell you my name, which is Olivia, and to ask for yours.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I’m Christopher.”

Her smile was slow and beautiful. “I thought so.”

She disappeared before he could ask her what that meant, and he was left staring at the wall.

Chapter 18

“Y
ou are most heartily welcome, Mistress Hopkins.” The elderly woman wore the simple garb of a countrywoman, her patterned skirts arranged decorously around her ankles, and her gray hair covered by a cream cap. There was nothing of the magical about Mistress Hopkins, just an air of calm good sense that made Rosalind feel comfortable with her.

“Thank you, my lady. I am glad to be of help.” Mistress Hopkins’s smile included Rhys, who leaned against the door of the abandoned shack to prevent anyone else from bursting in and finding them there.

Mistress Hopkins took the cloth from the large wicker basket she held and placed it on the floor. “I have here all the ingredients for the potion, and I have written out the instructions. I suggest you do not give the Lady Anne the recipe. It would be better for all of us if she doesn’t know exactly what is in it and has to rely on you, or someone of our faith, to make it for her.”

“That’s a good point,” Rosalind said. “We need all the advantages we can get against her.”

Mistress Hopkins looked perturbed. “From what I’ve heard of the woman, she dabbles in just enough magic to make herself dangerous.”

Rhys peered into the basket. “She’s dangerous, all right. What exactly goes into the potion?”

“It is a distillation of oak and willow bark, which promote healing, birth, and fertility.” As she spoke, Mistress Hopkins laid out a series of sealed jars on the folded cloth. “This is mistletoe cut by one of our priests from an oak tree using a golden scythe on the sixth day of the moon, and this is vervain, which is said to unlock the womb.”

“These things promote fertility?”

“Aye—if Lady Anne wears the acorn charm as well, she could become pregnant within one moon cycle.” Mistress Hopkins drew a piece of parchment from the basket. “And here is a prayer to recite before drinking the potion.”

“I suppose we’ll have to give that to Anne,” Rosalind said reluctantly.

“You will, but because she is using our magic, she will not be able to change the spell and use it on anyone else for her own evil gain.”

Rosalind smiled for the first time. “That is excellent news.”

Mistress Hopkins patted Rosalind’s knee. “And there is another thing you might suggest to the lady. She should pluck a new heartsease flower every day and study it. If the face of the flower has five lines to the right, that means prosperity and fertility. She must take the flower and keep it under her pillow that night.”

Rhys straightened and peered through the cracks of the boarded-up window. “I’m not sure if we want to help her quite that much, but thank you, mistress. Is there anything else we need to know?”

Mistress Hopkins started to repack the basket, her movements steady and assured. “If the lady refuses your bargain, you must bring everything back to the stone circle, especially the acorn charm.”

“Oh, we will. We certainly don’t want Anne stealing Druid magic in the hope of using it against us.”

Mistress Hopkins showed Rosalind a small bottle containing the made-up potion. “You—or someone you trust—can make up more from the ingredients I have put in the basket. If you run out of anything just let me know.” She hesitated. “There is one other thing about the potion we hope will benefit us, and help to defeat Lady Anne.”

“What is that?” Rosalind bent to help Mistress Hopkins with the basket.

“Although vervain
is
a powerful fertility herb, it also thins the blood and will weaken her Vampire powers. Lady Anne will need to feed far more often just to maintain her strength, which has to be a good thing.”

Rosalind took Mistress Hopkins’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you.”

“This woman, or any Vampire, cannot be allowed to rule this country. We are all glad to help.”

Rhys fixed his gaze on Rosalind and she tried to ignore him. “Is there a way for us to contact you, Mistress Hopkins?”

“Ask for my husband, Thomas. He works in the smithy here at Hampton Court. He’ll pass on any message. We live quite nearby.”

Rhys cleared his throat. “I’ll escort you back to your husband, Mistress Hopkins,
after
Lady Rosalind has had a word with you,
alone
.”

Rosalind scowled at Rhys as he went out whistling and slammed the rickety door behind him.

“What is it, my dear?”

Rosalind brought her gaze back to the serene face of Mistress Hopkins. “I’ve not been well.”

“In what way?”

“I’ve been puking and feeling dizzy. I fear Anne Boleyn is poisoning me.”

Mistress Hopkins beckoned to Rosalind. “Come here and let me look at you.”

It proved impossible to ignore that tone. It reminded Rosalind too much of her mother. She waited patiently while Mistress Hopkins looked in her mouth, studied her eyes and then her skin.

“I don’t think it is poison. That would leave its mark on you all too obviously.” Mistress Hopkins sat back. “How is your appetite?”

“Sometimes I feel so hungry I want to eat all day, and other times I want nothing.”

“When did you last have your courses?”

Rosalind stared at Mistress Hopkins. “What does that have to do with my stomach?”

“When, my lady?”

Rosalind tried to think. “I’m not sure. In truth, I’ve never been very regular . . .”

Mistress Hopkins drew a delicate breath. “Is it possible you might be breeding?”

Rosalind just stared at her, her tongue seemingly stuck to the roof of her mouth. “I . . .”

“Is it possible?”

Rosalind’s fingers flew to her cheek. “Oh, my goodness. Don’t tell anyone!”

“I would never break your confidence, but”—Mistress Hopkins nodded toward the door—“if you are with child, you should at least tell the father so that he can marry you as soon as possible.”

“Rhys isn’t the father,” Rosalind muttered. “It is my betrothed.”

Mistress Hopkins stood up and smoothed down her skirts. “That would be Lord Christopher Ellis, then. The Druid slayer.”

Rosalind bit down hard on her lip.

“Don’t cry, my lady. There are ways to stop—”

“I could never do that. Please, don’t even suggest it.”

Mistress Hopkins sighed. “Then I wish you well. Your life will not be easy, and your child will be unwelcome to many.”

Rosalind couldn’t even begin to contemplate that horrible truth. She simply nodded at Mistress Hopkins and sat down suddenly again. She felt a hand smoothing her hair.

“My lady, make sure to eat regularly, even if it is only a piece of dried bread or a handful of fruit. Ginger is excellent to help with the nausea as well. And keep away from that fertility charm. You don’t want to produce a litter of children.”

“Thank you,” Rosalind whispered.

“I wish no harm on you, my dear. A child is a precious thing, regardless of its parentage.”

Rosalind remained where she was until she heard Mistress Hopkins open the creaking door and call to Rhys. She waited until their voices faded down the path, but found she was still unable to get up. Little by little her breathing evened out and her dizziness lessened. She had to be strong now. She stared down at her clenched fingers, caught the flash of the ruby Christopher had given her. There was no way she could let on to either Rhys or Christopher that she was with child. Both of them would insist she leave court, and she had no intention of doing that until Anne Boleyn was well and truly beaten.

But what of the child? Mistress Hopkins had tried to conceal her distaste at the thought of a babe with such mixed bloodlines, but many would share her prejudice. Both she and Christopher knew what it was like not to fit in, and to be different. Would their child feel the same?

Rosalind placed her hand over her still-flat stomach and took another deep breath. It didn’t matter. She would love and protect this babe with her life. She hoped only that when she
did
tell Christopher, he would feel the same. And she would have to tell him at some point, even she knew that.

She raised her head and wiped her eyes. She would carry on for as long as she was able. Her mother had never believed a woman needed to mollycoddle herself when pregnant and Rosalind didn’t believe it either.

She heard Rhys whistle, and picked up the heavy basket, ready to greet him when he opened the door and asked his pointed questions as to her health.

Later that evening, after Rhys had deposited the contents of the basket in a safe place, Rosalind met him back at the ruined shack. Christopher and Elias were already there, the three men making the cramped space even smaller. Rosalind offered them all a smile and sat down on the nearest stool.

She let Rhys tell Christopher and Elias what had transpired with the wisewoman, saw their faces light up with a suggestion of hope for the first time in a long while. While Rhys talked, Christopher glanced at her more than once. She strove to present him with her most serene face and as open a mind as she could manage under the circumstances.

Elias listened intently, wincing as Rhys mentioned the effects of vervain on a Vampire’s blood as if he understood the necessity of using it, but still found it painful to hear.

Rhys stopped talking and looked at Rosalind. “Is there anything you would like to add, my lady?”

“No, I think you covered everything admirably,” Rosalind said. “Do you wish to say something, Elias?”

“I have confirmed that Anne has never succeeded in bearing a child. I thought as much, but it never hurts to check.” Elias met Rosalind’s gaze. “I also learned that she has been actively seeking ways to make herself more fertile.” He sat back. “It would seem that your chances of persuading her to accept your bargain—if at least for a while—are high.”

“Oh, do you think so, Elias?” Rosalind asked. “You know her better than any of us.”

His silver-gray gaze rested on her for a long moment. “If you present the offer to her in the right way, she will certainly consider it. Why wouldn’t she? The power to thumb her nose at the Vampire Council and rule all of England and Wales through her son? I would take the chance.”

Christopher stood up and paced the small space. “How are we going to present this ‘opportunity’ to Anne?” He pointed at Elias. “If you or I do it, she’ll know we’ve changed sides and we’ll lose that advantage. She already hates Rosalind, and Rhys isn’t powerful enough to handle her by himself.”

Rhys snorted. “I am, my lord. I’m quite happy to volunteer to be the bearer of this particular piece of bad news.”

Rosalind took a deep breath. “You’re not strong enough, Rhys. I’ll come with you. We’ll do it together.”

Christopher strode over and glared down at her. “You will not go near that woman.”

Rosalind stood up and shoved at his chest until he backed up. “I will do what needs to be done. I’m no coward.”

“By all that’s holy, Rosalind—”

Elias interrupted Christopher. “Lady Rosalind is right, my lord. She is the only one Anne will listen to. Anne won’t be able to ignore the opportunity to meet her deadliest foe face-to-face and mayhap kill her.”

“Thank you, Elias. At least you are making sense,” Rosalind said, ignoring Christopher, who was still glowering at her. “Do you think you could arrange for Anne and me to meet somewhere without George and the rest of the court?”

“And me,” Rhys said. His expression was stubborn enough that she knew he wouldn’t let her go alone.

“I can probably do that,” Elias murmured.

Christopher gave a short laugh. “What a pity you haven’t been on our side from the start, Elias. We could’ve finished Anne off weeks ago.”

Elias pointedly ignored Christopher and focused his attention on Rosalind. “As you know, the Lady Anne professes to have Lutheran leanings and thus avoids attending services at the king’s chapel. Of course, she is simply avoiding the Mass because she doesn’t like to take the Host, but the king tolerates it, because he is growing disenchanted with the Church as well. I might be able to arrange a meeting after one of the Lutheran services.”

“That is an excellent idea, Elias.” Rosalind smiled at him and he almost smiled back. “We are so grateful for your help. It cannot be easy to plot against a woman you care about.”

Elias stiffened. “I do not ‘care’ for her, my lady. I merely wished to use her to gain power.”

Rosalind chose not to argue. “And what of your standing with the Vampire Council? Are you in danger?”

“If Anne takes power and ignores the Council, they’ll remember that I warned them, so I foresee no problems in my future.”

“Unless our plan fails,” Christopher muttered.

Elias turned his cold, charming smile on Christopher. “If we fail, we will all be executed, and then we’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“And Anne doesn’t deserve you, anyway,” Rosalind added. “How any woman could prefer that puffed-up peacock George Boleyn astonishes me.”

“You are too kind.” Elias bowed.

Christopher shot Rosalind another glare, but at least Elias looked less strained and more his usual self-contained self. She’d never considered he might have feelings.

“Then we are agreed. Rhys and I will offer the bargain to Anne Boleyn.”

Christopher let out his breath. “And I’ll keep George away.”

“And I will ensure that your meeting with the Lady Anne is uninterrupted,” Elias added.

Rhys sat back down. “Now all we have to do is work out how best to approach a poisonous snake.”